


under the stars

by okaypottah



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mild Gore, Romance, Slash, trick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaypottah/pseuds/okaypottah
Summary: they say you're only afraid if it means something to you.





	under the stars

**Author's Note:**

> killing troy off was the writers' biggest mistake and im never gonna forgive them for that
> 
> new in the fandom, and all the works i've read so far are BEAUTIFUL. there's no words to describe how amazingly talented yall are. 
> 
> so got this one idea in science class (yeah pay attention in class apz whATEVER) and it took a 180 turn bc its not what i had originally pictured .. but after wasting like 1.5 hours on it im not gonna delete it
> 
> this carl and clara are made up people alright
> 
> enjoy reading!

" _Troy_!"   
  
It's a scream, one that manages to pierce through the snarling of the Infected that surround them, vacant eyes and mouth bloody.   
  
Nick doesn't even realize the word has left his lips until the man looks over to glance at him from a few feet away, only after narrowly missing one of the dead nearly getting his shoulder chewed off.   
  
The eye contact lasts a second, or maybe even less, because while he's managed to get Troy's attention, he'd also become the centre of attention for the Infected as, influenced by the sound, they all turn to him, biting air.   
  
His grip on the axe in his hand hardens and he swallows, falling into position. _It was supposed to be an easy mission_ , he thinks, watching them drag their bodies closer, _get the supplies and get the hell out._  
  
But of course, when is it ever so easy, right?   
  
They'd been out to get some meds-- Nick, Troy and a couple others from the militia-- that the ranch medic, Adri, needed because some were falling sick of some stomach problems.   
  
It's nothing serious, really, just to help ease the pain and since it'd been a while since he'd  been outside the fence, Nick suggested they go and get them to which everyone agreed.   
  
It's a small store, a pharmacy, maybe, a little over an hour drive as the sky was swirls of orange, pink and blue by the time they arrived.   
  
The door was tightly locked-- and that should've been the first warning-- but one of the newbies, as it was his first time, simply thought of it to be to safegaurd the medical supplies and went on to open it.   
  
And that is how they ended up here, make-shift weapons in hand as maybe a dozen or two walkers try to have a taste of them, the sky a deep blue star dotted blanket above them.   
  
Carl, as Nick now remembers his name to be, and the other girl who was with them, are currently inside searching for whatever they needed while Nick and Troy cover them. Troy's slicing through flesh skilfully with his machete, bodies dropping faster than Nick can count.   
  
Not that he's counting-- _pfft,_ of course not. It's just, not his fault, okay. Not his fault his eyes drift over the other man's form every two seconds, whether it's to admire his work or to calm his own worry that is a somewhat strange feeling in regards to Troy.   
  
_It's Troy_ , he wants to scream at himself, _he can take care of himself. He's more than capable of taking care of himself._   
  
And it's not untrue, not a statement that he's uttering over and over to himself to make him believe in it, no-- it's the truth. Troy has saved Nick himself on more than one occassion.   
  
So maybe add one more to the list.   
  
The grip on his forearm snaps him back to reality. His wide eyes meet blue ones, anger swimming in them with a small hint of worry.  
  
"Are you out of your fucking _mind_?" Troy practically screams at him. The question is usually asked the other way around so it almost would've made him snort if he didn't have to swing his axe to a Walker's head to avoid his own getting bit.   
  
"I'm--" With his focus back, one more body goes down, blood spraying on his face. "shit, got distracted sorry."   
  
"Yeah, distracted, my ass." Troy gets out between pants and Nick notices the way he winces ever so slightly at every breath he takes. But before he can question it, Troy's already growling out, "Get your head back in the game, Clark; I'm not gonna be able to protect you from everything goddamnit."   
  
His words make Nick grit his teeth, make him relive all those times he's heard those words from all the people who meant a lot to him -- from the Old World, though, and all dead now, of course-- and if the next swing of his axe is comparatively harder, that's only for him to know.   
  
"I don't fucking need you to." He spits, and maybe it's a lot harsher than he meant for it to be but over all the chaos, Troy doesn't seem to notice.   
  
There's maybe six left, as far as he can count; four edging their way towards him while the others move to Troy. It's not much of a hassle after that, all of them getting their heads bashed in one by one. 

Just as he's freeing his axe from the last of his enemies, a woman who couldn't have been older than twenty-seven, he hears the all too familiar snarling behind him, so close it makes the hairs on his neck stand.   
  
He's about to turn around when there's a heavy force on his back that pushes him to the side, making him land face first among the many bodies lying around.   
  
The push knocks the air out of his lungs, and his vision goes dizzy for a second. Or maybe it's more than that, can't tell. Maybe he hit his head. It is throbbing, on the left side, so he definitely did.   
  
He hears a cry of pain that sounds distant amd all he can think of is _not him, please, not him_. His body aches all over and he can't bring himself to get up, dropping back to the ground after he lifts himself up even a few inches.   
  
And so he doesn't.   
  
He just lies there, on the cold hard ground, a particularly sharper stone digging into his cheek. It hurts but his body hurts more and also refuses to move so lying down it is.  
  
There's Troy, strong and undoubtedly handsome Troy, a few feet away, a blurrier version sure, but that's him, uniform bloodied as he drops his weapon and limps his way towards Nick. Limps, huh.   
  
"Hey, hey, hey." Troy's close now, hand slapping Nick's cheek as he disorientedly stares up at him. "You okay, Nicky? Did you hit you head?"   
  
"S'okay." He mumbles, "Why're you limping," He asks as Troy checks for any major injuries, his face so close Nick could've counted his lashes if he wasn't lazy as hell. Also, his eyes were starting to droop shut so there's that.   
  
" _No_. No, eyes _open_ , Nick. Keep your eyes on me. Hey," A particularly hard slap makes his eyes snap open, "You asked why I was limping, right? Hm, Nick?"   
  
All Nick can do is hum out a dazed,"Mm-hm."   
  
"Yeah, right, so," Troy curses as his fingers run over a bump that makes Nick wince in pain. "Well, it just hurts when I put pressure on it so I'm just trying _not to_ until I get it checked. I don't think it's broken, but a small sprain maybe."   
  
Troy wraps his arm around Nick's torso, planning to lift them up but all the Infected are down and they're both just so tired so he just sits there, making Nick involuntarily lean into his touch. The pain in his head has dropped to a comparatively tolerable level now but he doesn't find it in himself to move away from Troy's touch.  
  
"That why you're breathing funny too?" At the raised brow, Nick adds, "Your face scrunches up in pain with every breath you take. It's kinda hard not to notice."   
  
"Just bruised ribs." Troy supplies, before squinting his eyes at Nick. "Did you hit your head too hard or is that concern I hear in your voice?"   
  
"You're an asshole and that's a fact that I won't forget even if I get my head banged against a rock a million times." Nick rolls his eyes.   
  
"No, I'm actually concerned. Maybe you did hit your head too hard cause you actually looked like you were gonna kiss me right there." Troy says and his voice is playful, a mischievious glint in his eyes.   
  
"Well, would you be opposed to it?"

The question slips past his lips almost involuntarily and he finds that he doesn't regret it; if this is the release of all the thoughts caged in his head so be it.  
  
Troy looks taken aback by the question, and Nick can feel his heart beating in his ears as he turns his head, their faces only centimetres apart. Troy's arm feels warm from where it's draped over him and all he can think of is;  
  
_it's now or never._   
  
And so, locking his eyes with wide blue ones one last time, he closes his own and moves forward, pressing their lips together.  
  
It's short and cold and everything he wishes it wouldn't, and he pulls away before things get any more awkward than they already are. There are excuses ready on the tip of his tongue, _oh sorry I did not mean to do that,_  and wow _that was weird huh,_  and my _head's being funny again,_  and it _was a **mistake**._   
  
He's about to blurt out whatever comes up to his mind first but just then a shot rings through the air, effectively getting both of their attention. 

From the entrance of the store, after what seemed to be forever, emerge Carl and the brunette, the former with a gun in his hand while the other had her hands filled with bags, meaning they'd actually found what they'd come for.   
  
They make their way towards the duo, Carl with a slightly apologetic look on his face while the woman walks straight to the vehicles. "I know you said no guns but one of them just popped outta nowwhere, was bout to get Clara so I did what I had to do. Others may be on their way, we should move."   
  
Troy nods, the arm around Nick dropping. There's no trace emotion on his face, no reaction that Nick can draw from his face. He ignores the lack of warmth and stands upright, hands spreading out as he sways on his feet.   
  
He regains balance and ignoring the weight of Troy's eyes on him, motions for Carl to come close. "Help me get him up." Troy looks like he's about to protest, claiming _he's fine_ , but stops, holding out his hands even.    
  
They both grab either of them, getting him to his feet. He puts his weight on the left one, so Nick concludes it's the right one that's broken/sprained. Judging from the way he's hissing curses under his breath, it's more likely broken, regardless of what he claims.   
  
There's a loud clang of things falling inside, and they take it as their cue to leave. There's two cars; Carl and Clara, as he now knows her to be, in one and the two of them in the other.   
  
Nick hesitates a second before entering, seeing as Troy's already in the car, in the passengers seat looking outside the window. He purses his lips, shakes his head before climbing in.   
  
They pull into the empty road, headlights illuminating their way. Silence fills the air, tension heavy between them.   
  
From the corner of his eye, Nick can see Troy examining his hand, bruised and bloody and he can think of a million different ways he can start a conversation and _maybe_ , just maybe fix everything his little stunt ruined between them.   
  
Because yes, Troy's an asshole and yes, Nick wants to punch his pretty face in twenty times a day and yes, Nick doesn't want things to be ruined between them because yes, he is very much _in love with him._   
  
So yeah, they should talk about it.   
  
But they just sit in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> im still figuring out stuff okayyeahokay 
> 
> kudos and comments appreciated!


End file.
